


If We're Being Honest

by o0SongAndSilence0o



Category: Mass Effect, Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Birthday Present, F/M, Other, dreabean, kadara spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-13 22:43:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10523439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/o0SongAndSilence0o/pseuds/o0SongAndSilence0o
Summary: Grace Ryder has a bad habit of choosing the most unsavory of relationship partners. An unlikely option is presented that might keep her from that...but not before someone new gets their turn.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dreabean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreabean/gifts).



> An early birthday present for the lovely dreabean. <3

Mechanical. In a way, that was what Grace’s work in the Milky Way amounted to. Researching and analyzing ruins and artifacts hardly proved for an emotionally engaging profession. Add onto that how disconnected her father had been; acting more as a cold mentor than a parent, and there you have it.

This sort of history made it all the more shocking to suddenly be more or less in charge of the well being and happiness of thousands of people. After hearing about the uprising on the Nexus, she was forced to push aside how awkward these situations made her and to find some way to smooth over everyone’s little squabbles and concerns.

Reprieve, in Grace Ryder’s eyes, was when on board the Tempest. There, she had to worry over only a handful of people; not an entire galaxy’s worth. Even then, there were still...complications. From the bickering between Kallo and Gil to the way Liam’s eyes followed her, it was apparent that such things were unavoidable.

Here, though, she could run away from it and instead immerse herself in toying with the various machines and contraptions aboard the ship, or in a special project she’d begun.  

While on Havarl, Grace had found a broken slab of tile as they had searched through destroyed homes in the jungle. It was an artistic piece; some sort of ceramic, possibly, decorated with bright coloring. In spare time, Ryder had taken to restoring it as best she could. Damages, as well as the age of it made it a difficult task, but one she wholefully accepted all the same.

It was this task that her mind had settled on while sitting on the galley countertop. It would be some hours until they reached Kadara, providing ample time to-

“Pathfinder,” SAM interrupted through the speaker over her head, “Please contact me through our private channel once you return to your quarters.”

It seemed that luxury would have to be benched a while longer. The last time SAM had requested such an audience was to relay sensitive information regarding that slimeball, Spender, and his not-so-savory behavior. What the problem could be this time was anyone’s guess.

 

Hopping down and tossing the wrapper from her energy bar into the disposal can, Grace swung around the corner and unlocked the door to her room. Once it shut, she cast a wistful glance towards the partially-completed tile before addressing the AI.

“Alright, SAM. What needs my attention this time?” She began, the tone of annoyance all too plain as she kicked her shoes off and collapsed on the bed. Once her eternal plus one was finished with her, a nap would be a better way to spend the time after all.

“According to your vitals, Pathfinder, you are greatly stressed. Is there some reason why you have not consulted Doctor T’Perro regarding this?”

It was still so strange to speak to AI. On one hand, Grace would think how interesting it was that you could almost sense feeling behind their words, only to have to remind herself that that sort of development was entirely possible.

“Its an occupational hazard, SAM. There’s really nothing Lexi could do about it. Did you call me in here just to suggest I get a checkup?” While raising an eyebrow to punctuate the question didn’t seem to make much sense, it was nearly involuntary and likely got the point across all the same.

“Not entirely,” the AI began, “Your father had initiated the process in developing my understanding of organic behaviors and emotions. However, there is one he refrained from”

SAM almost sounded...nervous.

“Hmm?” Grace mumbled into her pillow, rolling over. “What would that be?”

“I have observed on the ship, as well as aboard the Nexus, that specific interactions between organic life forms produce chemicals associated with joy and fulfillment. Such things are also known to have therapeutic and calming after effects. As I believe it would benefit the both of us, I would be interested in exploring such interactions for myself to gain better understanding.”

It took a moment, and then a few more, for Grace to process what SAM had just said, and even after understanding it she was in complete disbelief.

Of course, as SAM extended his understanding of people, this would fall in there somewhere, but to suggest…

It really does make sense, she mused. Grace wasn’t blind, and had seen how some of her crew would look at her. But she never had any interest in acknowledging them over it. To do so, even for a casual arrangement, would open up the potential of someone getting hurt. This, though. This would be different. No such risks were possible.

And it did typically relieve tension...

However, the implications of what this would be were still jarring. Getting back up, Grace tugged her discarded sneakers back on and shook her head while crossing the room.

“No, SAM, I...I’d have to think about this...alot, and you’re right. You don’t understand.”

 

After that, the occasional personal questions, as well as anything not mission related, were entirely omitted from her conversations with the AI. And all for the better. The offer raised so many questions that it would take time to process.

Was she incapable of forming real attachments? No, that wasn’t true. She’d had relationships in the past; they just...never went well.

Would allowing SAM to do..There was a legitimate question to that, but it was overrun by wondering what exactly the AI could do in that type of situation. No, best not to think about that.

The remainder of the trip was spent in the cargo bay, assisting Gil in installing a handful of upgrades to the Nomad. In truth, the task didn’t interest Grace in the slightest, but it kept her busy. Not to mention, being able to occasionally hit things with a wrench was a bonus.

-

Ryder had been to Omega once while tracking down a volus who was peddling stolen Prothean relics. Kadara port was very much like that. Both were dismal, corrupt places that left a taste much like sulfur in the back of one’s throat.

Within minutes, a basic picture was painted of the living situations of the exiles who resided in port, and if Sloane Kelley was the reason for it, Grace already knew their dealings would be less than amicable.

Waiting for the Resistance contact to arrive provided another unfortunate time period where all she had to do was think. And wasn’t it awkward that SAM was able to hear all of it? Privacy was nonexistent, but at least he was keeping any commentary to himself. Him...Could she really call an AI ‘him’? The voice was definitely male, b-

“You look like you’re waiting for someone.” An almost sultry voice purred from behind her. Likely caused by Grace’s prior thought process, all the same that line sent shivers down into the Pathfinder’s toes.

The man who, thankfully, snapped her attention out of her own mind, lifted a hand towards the bartender, offering one of the drinks subsequently given to him.

“I’ll pass,” Grace muttered, averting her eyes to the Kadaran landscape through the windows. The last time she’d drank anything, it was from the bar on the Nexus. Whatever that was, she woke up some time later lying on the stage. Anything that happened couldn’t have been too bad, since no damning vids were released afterwards.

With what she swore was an eye roll, the stranger drained both glasses like it were nothing. Showoff.

“Shena.” he began, automatically claiming Ryder’s attention once more. “But you can call me Reyes. I hate code names.”

“I was expecting someone more…Angaran.” Grace admitted, giving this Reyes fellow a once over.

He laughed and that same pleasant thread ran over her spine, causing her to only catch the end of his response. “...among other things.”

A non-committal nod hid this fact, and with a wave gesturing they move away from the bar, the conversation steered towards business. Yes, the angaran prisoner. Reyes offered his assistance in securing the traitor’s release, so long as Ryder make an attempt at persuading Sloane, though they both knew how futile that would be.

He’d already crossed nearly half of the bar before she could turn. “Wait! If things go south...how will I contact you?”

It was then that Grace Ryder remembered full well why she steered away from romantic entanglements. Why each attempt left wider, deeper scars than the last.

Because with a sly smirk and a wink to bring anyone, even a Pathfinder, to their knees, Reyes reminded her of them all.

“Oh no…”

She would always be attracted to the darkness in others.

-

The next week was even more of the same, as Grace found herself snowballing again into her far too familiar pattern. Words like honey, smiles that made one catch their breath, and the intense thrill of breaking a few rules.

Con artists, every last one of them. Break it up into liars, murderers, and thieves, but they all end up bearing every quality sooner or later. Reyes had evidently reached his personal peak.

His own body count was in the double digits, though she reconciled this with knowing it was out of necessity.

He stole, but it was for her. Priceless alcohol shared on a rooftop, their backdrop a sunset to shame any on Earth. He kissed her there, and as bad as Grace knew this would inevitably end, she felt she understood him. That this slum of a planet may have provided her with that ‘bad boy’ who would actually care.

But then, like always, the ball had to drop, didn’t it? The silence of the cave punctuated with words that were _theirs,_ but this time cut into her like a blade when the puzzle pieces finally clicked together.

“This whole time...you’ve been lying to me.” Ryder’s voice barely a whisper, though even without the cave walls to amplify the sound, the hollow pain in it echoed on its own.

“Not the _whole_ time…” as though that awarded any absolution.

Grace’s ears rang, looping the similar lines she had heard from every partner she’d ever trusted herself to. True, she and Reyes had not been fully intimate, but she had so hoped that this time...this time it could be different.

They were to duel for Kadara port. Archaic and crass as that sounded, it would spare lives.

Two seconds. All of two seconds, and Grace held the lives of both of the people before her in her hands. Reyes, of course, could not leave matters to chance or skill, instead relying on the sniper hidden above them.

As much as it hurt. As much as Sloane deserved better than this, a part of Grace’s mind was able to pull through and make a choice. One that sacrificed a tyrannical woman for the safety of the entire port city.

Looking down to the cave floor in shame, she still flinched when the sniper’s round struck Sloane in the back. She was gone before her knees hit the ground.

 

_I can’t stay here_ , she thought in sickening panic, turning and making as quickly for the Nomad as possible. Stumbling on a rock, an arm caught her before she fell.

Pulling away sharply from Reyes, she tried biting back the tears burning behind her eyelids.

“Looks like you got what you wanted. Are you happy now?” the Pathfinder spat, forcing herself to meet the ‘Charlatan’s’ eyes.

“What I wanted was peace. Sloane-”

She cared little in cutting him off. Truly, his words meant nothing. “And you used me to get it. To play your games to undermine her and lure her here when you had no intention of playing fair! Why didn’t you tell me the truth?”

A stricken expression betrayed Reyes before he could steele it away again. “I...liked the way you looked at me. I had hoped that wouldn’t change…”

No amount of remorse would fix this, even if she could trust it. She was played like a chessboard, as though she was nothing better than a cheap plaything. Just like they always did. And this time, she was forced to side with a lying cheat for the sake of not only her own, but Jaal’s people as well. The knowledge, the weight that settled on Grace’s shoulders, was one she knew would haunt her.

Vetra met her gaze as she made it to the mouth of the cave. The Turian’s hand moved to her rifle, glancing back over the Pathfinder’s shoulder. “Should I…?” her rumbling voice offered, more than a little anger caged behind it.

The two had become close since meeting, and it was reassuring, though not nearly enough, that Grace had a friend who would take such action, simply because that person had harmed her.

She shook her head, not pausing in her departure. “He isn’t worth the cost of the bullet.”

-

The newly appointed ruler of Kadara Port requested to speak with her, but Grace found herself unable to face him. Sending Vetra in her stead, Ryder could trust that business matters would be handled.

She was numb the following day as she gave a final check on the construction workers setting up the outpost. An email came through as Grace boarded the Tempest. The sender’s name was cause enough to delete the message without bothering to view the contents.

“Kallo?” She asked with a sigh, plotting course on the helm’s map. “Get us out of here, will you? I’m done with this cesspool.”

Leaving further management to the capable Salarian, she hopped the ladder down and entered her room. Sliding a finger over a wall panel dimmed the lights, and she began removing her armor until all that was left was a sports bra and her underwear.

She was tired of being hurt. Exhausted at meaning nothing to everyone she grew attached to. And to continue hoping for better was to expect a miracle that would never come.

Never again.

“SAM? About that offer…”


End file.
